RIP In the Beginning: (Rest of the Story)

By Robert Harrell

Part 2

My name is Rip B. Johnson; and I'm going to take you on a journey of murder, mysteries, conspiracies, adventure, love, government corruption, treason, human trafficking, and sacrificial American patriotism.

You will meet my team as we go along. Some of these people are real-life characters, and some of these events are true. The setting could be anywhere in America, maybe even in your hometown. These real-life characters could be your neighbor, your favorite bartender, or the seemingly drunken bum on the street. It could even be your spouse or partner. How well do you know them?

Names have been changed to protect their identities.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Page Publishing, Inc.
• Release date: May 2, 2023
• ISBN: 9798889601456

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RIP In the Beginning

(Rest of the Story)

Robert Harrell

Copyright © 2023 Robert Harrell

All rights reserved

First Edition

PAGE PUBLISHING

Conneaut Lake, PA

First originally published by Page Publishing 2023

Any similar names, places, or events in this book are pure coincidence and for entrainment purposes only.

ISBN 979-8-88960-111-1 (pbk)

ISBN 979-8-88960-145-6 (digital)

Printed in the United States of America

Table of Contents

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Chapter 26

Chapter 27

Chapter 28

Chapter 29

Chapter 30

About the Author

Written By

Chapter 16

Once in the air heading toward Denver, I gathered the team. Okay, ladies and gentlemen, it's time to return to work in the real world, I said, and Denver is our target. I filled them in on what was going on and asked for suggestions. A few ideas were kicked around, but my idea seemed to be the favorite and there were a few laughs. Okay, then the shit plan is what we'll do. Upon landing, we need to locate a couple of liquid manure tankers and a couple of high-pressure manure cannons. Cowboy, I want you to commandeer a couple of city plow trucks. We're going to mount these cannons on the plow trucks. We are going to borrow a couple of these manure tankers and attach the cannons to these tankers by hoses. The local police have their hands tied by this idiot mayor and brain-dead governor. However, it's been assured that they will step in and do what needs to be done to secure whatever we do. It's just that they are prohibited to penetrate this autonomous zone. Neil, I need you to find me some florescent dye to mix into the manure. The chief of police will be meeting us at the airport. He'll have uniforms for us so we can mix in and get around without issues with the other officers. Also, he doesn't know anything about us. All he knows is we're coming to fix the problem. Gentlemen, get some rest. We land in Denver in six hours.

Upon arrival, there were a couple of Tahoes waiting for us with uniforms. The rest of the team rented cars and split up to locate the items we needed, and the ladies headed to a hotel outside town, where it was safe. Gentlemen, we'll stage at this city parking lot a couple of blocks from the zone. When you get everything we need, let me know and I'll send you the GPS location, I said on the radios. And remember, we don't want to use lethal force if we don't have to on this. We will hit them tonight when the natives get restless.

One by one, the team began checking in that they've secured the items we needed, and I directed them to the parking lot a couple of blocks from the riots that were quickly escalating. Cannons were mounted to the plow trucks, and tankers were hooked up to the trucks. Hoses were secured and tested.

We got on board the trucks and locked and loaded our guns with tear gas and rubber slugs. I called the chief and let him know that he may want to pull his officers back when we approach his position in about ten minutes. He had no idea what we were going to do. Gentlemen, they have barricades, and we are going through them. We will blast them when I tell you. The team was getting a pretty good chuckle out of this. Shit's going to hit the fan. We pulled out of the parking lot and got side by side going down the street. There was thick black smoke rolling from the fires they already got started.

As we approached their position, we could see the police officers retreating. The rioters, thinking that the officers were retreating, began cheering and screaming their joy until they saw us approaching them. And they began bunching up and taking cover behind their barricades, thinking they were just going to get hosed down by water. We passed the officers, and the chief walked up to us.

Chief, I said, you may want to call on your bullhorn one warning to break it up and go home. Only tell them once. After that, we'll take care of it. The police chief turned on his bullhorn and said, This is Police Chief Arnold. I'm only going to tell you one time. Break this up and go home. If you are busted, you and your family will lose any and all welfare or government assistance that you may be getting. This is going to stop tonight! The crowd replied with obscenities and began throwing rocks and Molotov cocktails at the officers and us. Shaking my head, I gave the word, Gentlemen, let the shit fly!

We took aim at the apparent ringleader and gave the first blast of the blue manure as the stream hit him square in the face and gave him a good taste. It hurled him into a backward flip in midair and back about twenty yards onto the street. The realization of what was being fired at them began to hit them as we swept across their ranks, and they began flying through the air. Now panicking, they were scattering in all directions as we plowed through the barricades and continued firing relentlessly. The rioters were now vomiting as we kept blasting them as fast as they would stand up to run. We had hit them again. The police officers watching were in disbelief at first, looking at each other, and then laughter erupted as they watched.

We drove down each street busting through every barrier we saw, and when we saw heads peering from around corners, they would get blasted. Not one idiot had the balls to approach us and try to counterattack in fear of getting their mouths washed out with blue shit. The police chief gave the word to move in and arrest everyone.

There were blue bodies lying everywhere, either from being so sick or from getting knocked out from the blast. It certainly took the fight out of them. Using heavy-duty zip ties, the rioters were shackled to each other as firefighters were using their fire hoses to blast them some more to get the excess shit off them before being loaded into buses. Though most of the shit got washed off them, they were still stained from the bright-blue dye. Therefore, for those that managed to escape, they were marked for a couple of weeks. No matter how much they scrubbed, they would still be able to be picked up later. Once things seemed to be under control, we began exiting the area.

The chief approached us and asked, Who in the hell are you guys?

Looking across the team, I looked back at him and replied, We are Homeland Defense Inc., your friends and your allies. If you stand for the Constitution of the United States of America as it is written and not as interpreted by crooked politicians, we will be here to back you up. However, let this be a fair warning. Should you waiver and become nothing more than a modern-day Nazi SS and do the bidding of a corrupt government, we will be your worst nightmare. Oh, and hey, chief, you may want to use some of this. I said as I threw him a new bottle of Febreze, It's really stinking around here. Let's go home team.

We rolled back to the parking lot, at which we started and parked the rigs, then headed back to the hotel for the night.

The ladies were waiting for us when we got there. They had watched the event on live TV and were still laughing until they caught a whiff of us as we caught some of the overspray. They were gagging and coughing. I tried to hug Rose, and she began dry heaving. We got a good laugh as we began stripping down out of the uniforms and heading into our rooms to shower, leaving the uniforms outside in a dumpster. The other guest was looking at us, undoubtedly trying to figure out why all these police officers were stripping outside, at least until they also got a whiff.

Bright and early the next morning, we were back on the plane heading home. We received a conference call from SA Blye addressing the entire team.

That was excellent work in Denver, SA Blye said, getting their face blasted with cow shit and an oral rinse not only put a stop to the riots but also took the fight right out of them. However, the mayor is absolutely furious and wants the officers involved in this unmitigated disaster and unlawful attack on the good citizens of his city to be prosecuted for their actions. The NAACP has filed a lawsuit against the DCPD for their actions. Chief Arnold and the police union rep have issued a joint statement to the press, NAACP, and the mayor. They denied all involvement and didn't have any idea who the imposters were, and their final statement was ‘So fuck off!' The team was now chuckling along with SA Blye.

Boomer said, Well, I hope Chief Arnold stands their ground against the city's officials and stop cowering down to them.

The sheriffs of the ten counties of Denver have banded together with the chief and expressed their support and vowed to work together. I don't think the city officials want to lock horns with that coalition, SA Blye replied. I hope you guys enjoyed your vacations. When you arrive back to base, you have some new equipment waiting for you and some still in process.

Boomer, I took the liberty of upgrading some of the equipment that you requested of which will take a little longer to acquire but well worth the wait. The H1 Hummers are obsolete, so they are being replaced with the Oshkosh JLTV [Joint Light Tactical Vehicle], one bad-ass machine. Also, you requested a couple of armored UTVs for quick deployment from the mobile units. They are being replaced by the Ripsaw EV4. It's a high-performance tracked tank powered by a twin-turbo-charged, 1,500-HP Hemi engine with an NOS injection system, capable of speeds in excess of 80 mph. They seat four and are armored against all small-arms fire. It's being equipped with the same Gatling guns and missile control systems as you requested with additional rocket pods. Fire control by the driver or passenger wearing a HUD helmet. There will be three of them, one for each mobile unit and one for use in base defense. So upon return, you guys have a lot of training to do and familiarization with this equipment. Meantime, we are working with the Department of Transportation to clear passage of the mobile units on the highways in each state and bypass the DOT scales. I'll keep you updated on that, gentlemen and ladies. Have a safe trip home. I'll be in touch.

After signing off, the team was chattering about the equipment that was coming. Cowboy looked at Boomer and myself and said, Holy fucking shit, Oshkoshes and Ripsaws, really? Looking down at his lap, he looked up, grinning ear to ear, and said, I think I just got myself a chubby!

Bull leaned forward and smacked him on the back of the head and scolded him. There's ladies present, he said.

Cowboy, looking at the ladies, said, Oops, I'm sorry, ladies. I wasn't thinking.

Arriving back home, there was a sigh of relief to be back home. There was also a little excitement in the air to see this equipment. Two semi rigs were there and two Oshkoshes, one Ripsaw, and eight ATVs. The rest should be coming within the week or so, but we had enough to start training and getting used to the equipment. The team was checking everything out, inside and out, and of course, they all wanted to test drive the Ripsaw, which I couldn't blame them because I did too. All the equipment was dark flat black. The finish on all the equipment was rough surface being a ballistically bulletproof coating.

Neil and a couple of his team members came out of one of the mobile units grinning ear to ear. Rip, Neil said, these command centers are amazing. We are going to get started immediately, familiarizing ourselves with the systems on board.

Smiling back at Neil, I said, Merry Christmas. I'll be in later to check it out. I'm going to test drive this Ripsaw.

The Ripsaw is a mean-looking machine inside and out. The bulletproof canopy opens on a gull wing door principle. I opened it and stepped inside, sliding down into the formfitting seat. The steering wheel is a Formula One style with multiple controls on the wheel itself with an LED screen in the center that gives all necessary information on the Ripsaw's vitals. The rest of the team was coaxing me to fire it up. After looking over the controls, I hit the start button and the beast roared to life, rumbling a low, bone-rattling chug. I hit the throttle, and the turbos started an impressive whistle and roar. The team was yelling their approval. I looked up through the windshield, and there stood Rose with her hands on her hips and the two girls on either side of her doing the same.

Rose said, Oh no, buster, not without us! Laughing, I unlocked the doors, and the other three gull wing doors opened. The three crawled in, and I instructed them to buckle up as the doors all closed and latched.

Let me get a feel of the controls first, I said as I slowly accelerated away from the team.

I turned left, then right and got a feel on how it responded, hitting the throttle fast, and the tracks immediately threw dirt and sod into the air and surged us forward. After multiple maneuvers around the field, I decided it was time to open her up a bit. Hold on, I said. I hit full throttle from a standstill, and immediately, the Ripsaw stood on end in a wheelie. The girls were screaming in the back. The Ripsaw's engine was roaring and screaming, and Rose was yelling, Holy shit! We dropped down out of the wheelie, and we were already doing sixty miles per hour across the bumpy field. But for us, it was a very smooth ride, as the cockpit has its own air suspension. I took hard turns to the left and to the right at sixty, and its response and stability were phenomenal. Cindy was squealing at every turn, and a couple of times, we were airborne. Emily was laughing hysterically at Cindy, and Rose was hanging on for dear life. I looked at Rose as I was laughing at her white knuckles.

Let's see how it does go across the lake, I said.

Oh, it floats? Rose asked.

No, I replied as I hit full throttle, heading toward the lake.

Rose's eyes were opened wide as she braced herself, and both girls were laughing at her. The turbos were screaming as we reached eighty miles per hour, and we darted out onto the lake. Rooster tails